


Rooftop

by Khashana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, M/M, Sex, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/Khashana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the defeat of Voldemort, Harry's friends convince him to blow off some steam by coming to the afterparty. However, he gets more than he bargained for when Malfoy shows up, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Roof

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This fic was inspired by Hot Chelle Rae’s song Tonight Tonight. I own neither song nor characters/places/related indicia.  
> A/N: I just had this vision of the cast of HP doing the music vid for this on top of the Astronomy Tower. Can’t you just see Dan Radcliffe screaming the lyrics and leaping around? And because it’s me it’s H/D.

“Come on, mate,” said Ron encouragingly. “It’ll be fun.”  
“So you’re going to go off and celebrate Lupin, Tonks, Colin, Fred, and everybody else dying?” asked Harry. His voice wasn’t angry, just calm.  
“It’s not really a celebration, Harry,” said Hermione. “It’s a chance for everyone who had to grow up too quickly this year to forget all that, just for one night.”  
“And act like irresponsible teenagers one more time,” said Ron. “And if you’re really hurting, a chance to get stinking drunk about it.”  
“Ron!” scolded Hermione reflexively. But it had struck something in Harry. A chance to stop carrying the weight of the world, for just one night. To stop being the Wizarding World’s savior. To be an ordinary teenager. And after all the people he’d lost yesterday, getting drunk sounded like a wonderful idea.  
So that was how Harry found himself at the top of the Astronomy Tower with a bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand. Ron and Hermione had found a corner in which to make out, so Harry wandered around and eventually sat down next to George, who sat clutching his knees, a half-finished bottle beside him.  
“Hey,” he said, not bothering to ask how George was. It seemed like a stupid question.  
“Hey,” returned George glumly. They sat in silence for several minutes.  
“Fred would’ve loved this,” said Harry, the Firewhiskey making him bold.  
“No kidding,” said George. “We never got to go to our own. Part of the reason we went back for our seventh year.”  
“Huh?”  
“The seventh years have a party like this on the last day of school every year. We figured Umbridge would never let us get away with it, though. I hear they didn’t have it the year after either because of Dumbledore. I always wanted to go, so when Seamus said they were doing it tonight, I came, but it’s not the same. You know.”  
Harry did know.  
“I’m going to turn in,” said George, standing.  
“Wait,” said Harry. “A toast for Fred. Hope he’s partying on the other side.”  
George smiled and raised his drink. “Fred.” They took a long draught each, and then George left, waving to Harry.  
Two bottles later, Harry was feeling decidedly more partylike. Someone had set up a wireless and was blasting The Weird Sisters, so he threw himself into the mix, flailing along with the rest and dancing with anyone who came in contact with him. Four songs was enough for his equilibrium, so he swayed off to the side to rest. After a minute, he noticed he was standing next to Draco Malfoy, who appeared to be trying to blend in with the wall.  
“Come on, let go,” Harry slurred slightly. Draco turned to him and raised a blonde eyebrow.  
“Of what, Potter?” Harry waved a hand.  
“Dance. Drink. Have fun. It’s a party.”  
“You’re drunk, Potter.”  
“So?” And with that, Harry dragged a protesting Draco onto the dance floor, grabbing his hands to force him to dance. Draco apparently gave up fighting him after a minute, and, grinning, Harry played off him, bumping hips and finally ending up so far into Draco’s personal space that their legs were entwined. Harry’s brain then got the brilliant idea, which it proceeded to utterly fail to talk itself out of, to kiss Draco, who responded with such eagerness that Harry quickly found himself making out with Draco Malfoy. Around then, the last of his alcohol kicked in and his already fuzzy memories ended entirely.


	2. In Bed

“Nnngg…”  
Harry rolled over, feeling decidedly worse for wear thanks to the Firewhiskey, and opened his eyes, squinting against the light. Thankfully there wasn’t much of it. He was not, then, back in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, where he had left his clothes and other personal effects Hermione had finally unpacked from the beaded bag, and where the light had an annoying habit of shining right in his eyes no matter where he slept, and the curtains an equally annoying habit of opening themselves in the middle of the night. Now that he thought about it, it seemed damper and colder than in Gryffindor Tower, too, more like the Malfoys’ dungeon…he hadn’t been captured while passed out by an angry Death Eater, had he? That would have been very stupid. He opened his eyes all the way, wincing, and looked around. He was lying on a bed, which he ought to have realized before, and which was good evidence against capture. Lucius Malfoy wouldn’t give him a bed. Harry looked in the other direction. And blinked. Draco Malfoy, though, apparently would, and had. And they were naked. Another look around the room convinced Harry that although he was in a dungeon, it was the less dangerous Slytherin dorm, likely that of the seventh year boys. For one thing, everything was decorated in green and silver. For another, the setup looked exactly like Harry’s dorm, except that the beds had more quilts and the windows let in green-tinted light with a view of the bottom of the lake. For a third, the trunk lying next to the bed to Harry’s right had the name Zabini inscribed on it. Assured that he was in no immediate danger of his life, since every other Slytherin, including Zabini, had fled, Harry returned his contemplation to the fact he and Draco Malfoy were lying in bed together, naked, and Harry couldn’t remember how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was…making out with Malfoy at the party, and even that was fuzzy. Well, he supposed it wasn’t that far of a stretch to sex with him. If that was indeed what had happened, and Harry thought by the way his body felt that it was. He had never had sex before, and he thought it was a bit irritating that he couldn’t even remember his first time. Then again, nothing had ever been normal for Harry, and he had already had to get over the unfairness of being the only one able to fight a homicidal maniac, without being able to relax long enough to get laid, a fight likely to result in his own death, in which case he would never have gotten laid. He watched Malfoy sleeping for a moment, pale limbs stretched carelessly over the bed and leaving Harry very little room. A dark patch on his arm caught Harry’s eye, and he realized it was the Dark Mark. It seemed lighter than Harry remembered, and he wondered if it was fading. Draco’s eyes flickered open as Harry watched him.  
“Hi,” said Harry.  
“Hi, yourself,” replied Draco.  
“So…we did it?” asked Harry, feeling supremely awkward.  
“Mm-hm.”  
“…Was it good?”  
That got Draco’s attention. “You really don’t remember?”  
“I was drunk.”  
“Clearly.”  
There was silence.  
I don’t know if I could love him, thought Harry. I don’t know if he can love me. I do know that he’s hot as hell, and I would very much like to try this again sober. He leaned over and kissed Draco again, hard, running his hands up and down the other man’s naked body. Draco responded eagerly, kissing Harry back and pulling him down to lie on top of him, snugging their groins together. The sensation made them both gasp, breaking the kiss.   
“Care for a second round?” Harry asked huskily, grinning. Draco didn’t grin back. He looked hesitant, actually.  
“If you go now, this can be a mistake, a drunken one-night stand. If we do it again…then what?”  
Harry shrugged. “More sex later?” When Draco only frowned at him, he added, “I’ve had enough for a lifetime of being responsible. Why don’t we just see where this goes?”   
Draco wasn’t about to go asking twice, and as they began to touch each other again, Harry thought briefly of coming down to breakfast, and seeing Ron turn red and say, “You had sex with Malfoy?” and he quite looked forward to being able to grin evilly and answer,   
“Twice.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Lines like “trying to blend in with the wall” I can happily say are influenced by the great and supreme JK, who once wrote, “Harry attempted to blend in with the canvas” and always makes me laugh with prose like that. Lines like “got the brilliant idea, which it proceeded to utterly fail to talk itself out of” are all my wacky brain and I can cite no influences that I know of.  
> This was meant to be all cracky, at least as far as I can stand crack, but then George snuck in. I felt too sorry for him to kick him out, so he stayed. Hope he didn’t ruin the tone entirely.


End file.
